


a missing piece of innocence

by amemorymaze



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, and harry wearing nail varnish and flowers in his hair, and high school aus are what i live for, because everyone needs louis teaching harry the piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2585213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amemorymaze/pseuds/amemorymaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Harry wonders if this is the moment his life turns into a stereotypical Hollywood rom-com because here he is, in the music practice room waiting for Louis Tomlinson, that year thirteen who has cool hair and really pretty eyes.</i><br/><i>And Harry’s just a year eleven with painted nails (which, come to think of it are starting to get chipped) and occasionally wears flowers in his hair that he tucks into his blazer pocket when the teachers inevitably tell him to remove them. </i><br/> </p><p> </p><p>or, louis teaches harry the piano and somewhere along the line, they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a missing piece of innocence

**Author's Note:**

> so [celine](http://www.sully-bean.tumblr.com) has made me my very own bingo card yay! and the first prompt was 'nail varnish' so obviously this happened... 
> 
> follow me on tumblr [here](http://www.amemorymaze.tumblr.com)!

There’s something about the way his nails look when they’re covered in a glistening paint. Something about the way he holds himself a little bit taller and walks with his back a little bit straighter.

He remembers exactly how it had started, he remembers asking Gem that one time why she painted her nails pretty colours and she’d just replied with a smile and a; “It makes me feel pretty.”

And Harry had just climbed up onto the sofa next to her and held his own hands out and asked her to make him pretty too.

His mum has ended up coming home to Harry giggling and running up to her showing off his new rainbow coloured nails and his mum had just smiled endearingly at him and told him how pretty they looked.

 

+

 

“Louis Tomlinson?” Harry asks, his voice going uncharacteristically high and his eyes grow wide.

“Yes,” Miss Evans says, shuffling the papers on her desk, “You know who he is, I’m sure?”

And Harry just nods his head frantically because of course he does. Everyone knows who Louis Tomlinson is. He’s one of those guys – one of the year thirteen’s who is always involved in school productions and plays for the sixth form football team. He always seems to be involved in everything, being everywhere all at once.

And now he’s going to be the one teaching Harry to play the piano.

“When do we start?”

 

+

 

Harry wonders if this is the moment his life turns into a stereotypical Hollywood rom-com because here he is, in the music practice room waiting for _Louis Tomlinson,_  that year thirteen who has cool hair and really pretty eyes.

And Harry’s just a year eleven with painted nails (which, come to think of it are starting to get chipped) and occasionally wears flowers in his hair that he tucks into his blazer pocket when the teachers inevitably tell him to remove them.

“Fuck, shit,” Louis says as he stumbles into the practice room, “Sorry, I’m –” his voice trails off and his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion because, “you’re not Liam.”

“No, he’s not,” Miss Evans says, “And mind your language, especially in the presence of new students.”

“What happened to Liam?” Louis demands and at Miss Evan’s sigh, Louis rolls his eyes, “He gave up, didn’t he?”

Harry stares up in wide-eyed confusion because he’s not entirely sure what’s going on.

Miss Evans shrugs, “He’s trying out the guitar.”

“I knew it,” Louis rolls his eyes, a laugh on his lips; “He was always playing about on them when he was waiting for me. Anyway,” Louis says, remembering Harry sitting there; “You alright, mate? I’m Louis.”

“Harry,” he replies.

“Okay,” Miss Evans says, clasping her hands together before turning to Louis, “Same as Liam, okay? Half an hour every week and you can decide when you meet.”

“Got it,” Louis says, saluting at her as she rolls her eyes and walks out of the room and Harry laughs at her exasperated sigh.

“First things first, gimme your number,” Louis says, grabbing his own phone from his jeans pocket.

“Oh, uh, sure?” Harry says, hesitantly.

Louis sits down on the chair next to the piano, “If you’re ill or need to reschedule or something, just send me a text.”

“Oh,” Harry says, handing his phone over to Louis, “Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

And, god, it’s so awkward and it shouldn’t be – it’s just tutoring but Harry isn’t good with new people. He can never get a feel for them; can never understand them straight away and it always takes a while.

Once they’ve put their phones away, Louis joins Harry on the piano bench; “Okay, we’re gonna start off simple because I’m going to assume the only things you’ve learnt are from music lessons.”

Harry nods, “Yeah and to be honest, I don’t really remember much of it.”

“Alright,” Louis says, “Do you know the keys?”

Harry shakes his head, “Well – I know that that,” he says, pointing to a key, “is a D, so I could figure it out but,” he shrugs, “it’d take a while.”

“That’s alright,” Louis says, softly, “It comes with practice. Can you read music?”

“Kind of,” Harry says, “I sing, so I have to for that, but I’m not very good.”

All of a sudden, Louis’ leaning across him and reaching up to the shelf behind Harry, his bare arm brushes Harry and he feels goose bumps form on his arm.

Then he’s sitting back down, holding a whiteboard pen and a music book.

“We’re gonna start simple,” Louis says, passing Harry the pen; “Can you write down the notes on the keys?”

Harry nods, uncapping the pen and starts writing on the plastic keys as Louis reaches into his bag and grabs a pencil.

“Nice,” Louis says as he studies Harry’s work, “You know the alphabet.”

Harry just laughs before shrugging, “Impressive, right?”

“Naturally,” Louis replies as he opens the music book and places it on the stand, “We’re gonna start easy.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star?”

“Don’t diss the classics,” Louis says, smiling.

Harry just raises his hands, laughing, “I wasn’t, I was just questioning your song choice.”

Louis laughs and nudges Harry’s shoulder and Harry forgets all about how awkward he is around strangers because somehow, with Louis, it’s just easy.

 

+

 

“I’m in love,” Harry says just before flopping down onto his bed, his eyes alight and sparkling as he stares up at his ceiling, the glow in the darks stars stuck there a soft green in the daylight.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Niall says, jumping onto the desk chair, spinning once before stopping it with his foot placed firmly on the ground.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry starts, fiddling with his fingers and ignores Niall’s small laugh,

“Louis Tomlinson? Really?” Niall drawls, rolling his eyes at Harry’s eccentricities as a fond smile graces his lips.

“He’s perfect,” Harry says, his voice soft, “And beautiful. Seriously, Niall, he’s gorgeous.”

“Okay, mate,” Niall says, “If you’re gonna start describing the colour of his eyes –”

“- Blue.”

“ – in great detail to _me_ instead of your diary –”

“It’s a _journal_ ,” Harry says indignantly.

“Same thing really,” Niall says, a smile still on his lips; “Seriously though, have you even spoken to him?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, one corner of his mouth turning up as he remembers his afternoon, “He’s teaching me piano.”

Niall laughs, the sound bursting from his lungs and Harry’s eyes narrow; “Hey!”

“You – god, Haz – actually, you know what? I’m not gonna say anything,” Niall says, jumping up on the bed next to Harry, “As long as you don’t start writing songs about him and singing them to me.”

Harry just groans, before grabbing the pillow by his head and whacking Niall in the face with it.

 

+

 

It takes Louis longer to ask than Harry had expected. But then again, Harry hadn’t worn flowers in his hair for a while now and it’s not like Louis would _know._

It’s their fifth lesson, Harry’s there at half three exactly and he grabs the whiteboard pen from the shelf and is writing the notes down on the keys when Louis rushes in fives minutes later. He’s late (but he’s always late) and Harry finds he doesn’t mind so much because they always lose track of time and run way over the half an hour he’s supposed to have.

Harry’s tinkling on the keys, pressing the notes lightly, when Louis walks in. His hair’s a mess – windswept and all over the place, and his panting, out of breath as he slings his bag in the corner of the room.

“Fuck,” Louis says, “You been here long?”

“Five minutes?” Harry guesses with a shrug; “Not long.”

Louis just nods his head, breathing heavily as he catches his breath and glances up at the clock. He slumps down on the piano bench next to Harry and they begin.

It’s when Louis is correcting Harry, once again that he asks. When Harry hands are spread across the keys, the purple nail varnish obvious; “Why’d you wear that?” Louis asks and Harry tenses instinctively because this never usually ends well.

“It makes me feel pretty.”

Louis shrugs and tilts his head to the side as if considering something before he answers; “Fair enough.”

And Harry smiles and looks up with Louis – his eyes sparkling in delight because he rarely gets _that_ reaction. It’s usually frowns and small shakes of the head that Harry tries (and fails) to ignore.

Louis smiles back, unaware of the way butterflies are soaring around Harry’s stomach and the way his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest, and says; “I like it.”

And Harry smile grows even wider and his eyelashes flutter; “Thanks,” he murmurs, voice quiet and rough.

Louis just shrugs, his eyes shining brightly before going back to teaching Harry about chords.

 

+

 

“Harold!”

It’s the only warning Harry gets before there’s a body pressed up next to his and an arm slung around his shoulders and, _oh,_ that’s Louis.

Harry sees Niall giving him a look, before he turns his attention to back to the boy that’s practically hanging off of him.

“So, any chance we can cancel this week?”

If Harry’s heart drops slightly in his chest, he doesn’t show it, he just turns a blinding smile at Louis, “How comes?”

“My mates wanna go out for a drink since a few are down from uni for a bit,” Louis says, twisting his finger in Harry’s curls before lightly brushing the petals of the flower in his hair; “Plus it’s student night, so it’s cheap.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry says, “Yeah, sure.”

Louis’ smile grows and he ruffles Harry’s hair with a laugh. “You’re the best, thanks, mate!” And then he’s turning away and he’s walking back down the corridor; “Don’t worry,” he shouts across the hallway, “We’ll just have a double lesson next week, yeah?”

Harry just smiles and nods, “Yeah, alright!”

And then Louis is gone.

Niall shoves Harry with a laugh; “You are so fucking gone,” he says.

“Fuck you,” Harry mumbles, a blush bright on his cheeks as his just tucks his face into the scarf woven around his neck.

“I’ll leave the fucking to Louis, I think,” Niall says, taking a step towards Harry as they walk down the corridor together and gives him a gentle nudge.

Harry just rolls his eyes; “Shut up.”

 

+

 

Harry wakes with a start – the tune of Marimba blasting throughout his room as he blinks his eyes blearily. He throws his arm out to grab his phone from where it’s vibrating on his bedside table and he finds himself doing a double take because that’s _not_ his alarm.

Instead, the name ‘Louis Tomlinson’ is flashing across the screen and, oh, it’s not even morning yet.

“’lo?” Harry mumbles sleepily, as he answers the call; “Louis?”

“Heeeeeeey,” Louis says, his voice and there’s a thumping of what Harry assumes to be bass in the background; “You have really pretty eyes.”

Harry’s heart jumps into his throat and he barely manages to croak out a reply. “W – What?”

“You are very pretty,” Louis says and Harry’s eyebrows just furrow.

“Are you – Are you drunk?”

“No,” Louis says indignantly, “Maybe a little bit. They made me do Jägerbombs, Haz.”

But before Harry can reply there’s another voice in the background; “Louis,” Harry hears, “Who’re you talking to, mate?”

“Harry – do you wanna talk to him?”

“Who’s Harry?”

“I teach him to play the piano at school! He wears pretty flowers in his hair and paints his nails and he’s really funny and his hair looks so soft – ”

All of a sudden, there’s a rustling on the other end of the line and that voice is clearer, “Harry, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, “Louis is fucking smashed right now.”

“I gathered,” Harry tries to laugh over the beating of his racing heart, “It’s alright. Just – make sure he gets home alright, yeah?”

“Yeah – Louis! Get down, for fuck sake,” Harry hears the boy swear under his breath before continuing; “Sorry, I gotta go, Louis’ trying to climb a fence.”

Before Harry can reply, the line goes dead and he sits in his bed staring at his phone wondering what exactly just happened.

 

+

 

The next day when he’s on his way to Geography, Harry spots Louis walking down the stairs as he’s going up.

“Louis!” Harry says, leaning against the railing as he looks down at Louis; “Have fun last night?”

“I feel like death,” Louis says and Harry laughs because there are bags under his eyes and his hair’s a (perfect) mess and his motions are slow. “And your laugh is too loud.”

“You rang me last night,” Harry says, a smirk on his lips.

Louis’ eyes grow wide, staring up at Harry in shock; “Fuck off.”

Harry just shrugs. “You’re the one that said I wear pretty flowers in my hair and cool nail varnish.”

A blush spreads it’s way across Louis’ cheeks, “You’re lying.”

Harry just shrugs and the bell rings through the staircase and, shit, Harry’s going to be late, but this is so worth it. “Check your call history,” Harry says with a cheeky smirk on his face, before turning away and walking up the stairs.

And just before the door swings closed behind him, Harry hears a quiet ‘ _fuck_ ’.

 

+

 

The next time they meet, Harry’s had a pretty shitty day and he’s the one who’s late. Surprisingly, Louis was actually on time and as Harry walks into the practice room, Louis playing the piano and Harry’s breath catches in his throat because he never thought someone could look so pretty.

His back held straight and poised, his fringe soft as it flutters against his forehead and his hands stroking the keys gently. He lifts his head as Harry enters, his gaze full of worry as Harry dumps his bag in the corner of the room.

“You okay?” Louis asks as Harry sits on the edge of the piano bench.

Harry shrugs, rubbing his eyes with fisted hands, “It’s just – it’s been one of those days.”

Louis smiles a sad smile at Harry. “You wanna talk about it?”

Harry just shakes his head; “Not really. Teach me to play?”

Louis smirks, “I can only try.”

It’s later when Harry’s struggling to get the chords right and Louis is sitting there, his body a warmth presence next to him, that all of a sudden Harry slams him hands down on the keys in annoyance.

“People just – they don’t understand,” Harry says, his voice is thin with hurt bleeding through; “They just say stuff and don’t think about the fact that I am a _human_ and that I do actually have feelings. Like, okay, not everyone is gonna like me, I get that, but they don’t have to get _nasty_. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Hey, hey” Louis says, moving hands so that they’re resting over Harry’s where they’re laying on the keys; “you don’t deserve to get treated like that.”

Harry just shrugs, looking down at his lap. “Yeah, well, to them I’m just that weird bi guy who’s looking for attention and wears those dumb flowers in his hair and paints his nails.”

“Harry,” Louis says, his voice soft and Harry looks up, eyes overly bright, “You _don’t deserve that._ ”

Harry blinks away tears before taking in a deep shaking breath, “I know, I know. It just – it really fucking sucks.”

There’s a moment then, sitting on the bench, when their sides pressed up against each other and Louis’ hands still covering Harry’s that Harry catches Louis’ gaze. Those glistening blue eyes staring into his and Harry feels a shiver of _something_ flutter up his spine and they’re close – so close. Harry can almost feel Louis’ breath against his lips; can almost hear the way his heart beat is beating out of his chest.

He doesn’t dare breathe – doesn’t take a single breath, afraid of breaking this moment. He wonders what would happen if he moved closer, if he dared to surge forward and press his lips to Louis’.

Harry doesn’t miss the way Louis’ gaze flickers to his lips and just as he’s about to take a breath, about to take that jump – there’s the shrill ringing of the bell.

It sounds through the room and they both jump away in shock – Harry almost falling onto the floor and Louis hitting his head on the shelf.

“Fuck,” Louis moans, rubbing the back of his head; “That bloody hurt.”

The bell’s still ringing and they look at each other because it _doesn’t stop_ and isn’t that the fire alarm?

“It’s Wednesday, Haz,” Louis says, as if it’s an explanation; “they’re just testing the alarm, they always do after school on Wednesdays.”

Then they’re both laughing and the moment’s gone but Harry finds it hard to be disappointed when he gets to see Louis’ smiling so wide that his teeth are showing and his eyes have gone all crinkly and he looks so happy.

It’s as Harry’s leaving that Louis calls out – just as he’s about to open the door – he says; “Hey, you know I’m always here if you want to talk.” He’s staring at his feet, twisting his hands together and it takes a moment for Harry to realise that Louis is _nervous._

Harry smiles a shy smile up at him; “Thanks, Lou. It means a lot.”

 

+

 

By their next lesson, it all goes back to normal. Louis turns up late, Harry is already there trying to play what Louis was teaching him the previous week. Louis gives sarcastic comments that just make Harry giggle and Harry rambles about his day and Louis watches with a fond smile on his face.

And everything is the same but there’s something else there – an underlying spark, a ticking time bomb that could set off at any minute.

But Harry just smiles and ignores the thrumming tension fizzling between them as he sits, once again, pressed up against Louis and tries to get his shaking hands to play the piano.

 

+

 

Harry’s drunk. He’s never been so spectacularly drunk in his entire life. The room is spinning and he can’t stop the laughs from bubbling up from his lungs and bursting into the air even though nothing’s particularly funny.

He’s not entirely how he managed to get here – he just remembers Louis texting him, inviting him over for drinks and he remembers standing on the doorstep with Niall by his side under the light of the moon. He remembers sitting on the sofa next to Louis amongst Louis’ friends, drinking a bottle of Carlsberg   and it not being nearly as awkward as Harry had expected.

They play FIFA and Call of Duty and get progressively more drunk. They laugh and joke and Harry is so happy because none of them are batting an eye at the flower in his hair, although one boy – Zayn (the boy who was on the phone to Harry when Louis drunk dialled him) – does give Louis an odd look when he fiddles with the petals. But Harry can’t bring it to himself to care.

Over the course of the night, Harry and Louis have somehow managed to get through two six-packs of beer, half a bottle of tequila and a bottle of imperial vodka. (“ _Yes, Harry, that cheap shit from the Co-op.”)_

He’s lying on Louis’ kitchen floor with Louis sitting with his back propped up against the kitchen counter, a bottle of tequila dangling limply from his fingers as he watches Harry. The rest of the boys can be heard giggling and cackling through the thin walls in the lounge.

Harry tells Louis – tells him how this is the “drunkest I’ve ever been.”

And Louis just laughs and pokes him in the side with his toe, which just causes Harry to giggle even louder.

“You’re cute,” Harry says, his voice soft as he turns his head so that he’s facing Louis.

Louis turns his head towards Harry and sends a lazy smile in his direction, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his eyes shine; “I fucking love you.”  

And Harry feels his heart cease beating for a split second as the words filter into his brain; he blinks before catching Louis’ gaze. The bright blue of his eyes piercing the green of Harry’s, his vision is swimming and his head is spinning and he may be drunk but he knows exactly what Louis said and he knows exactly what he’s saying when he replies; “I fucking love you, too.”

They share shy smiles, a small moment of intimacy before Harry is rambling about the state of his nails and what colour he should paint them next and, “you’ll let me paint your nails, right, Lou?”

Louis smiles with a laugh etched onto his lips as he agrees.

 

+

 

Harry wakes up to the sun blinding his vision and the soft snores of boys scattered around the room. His head is spinning and his stomach turning and he muffles a groan in the cushion under his head. His mouth is dry and feels like it’s full of cotton wool.

He gets up slowly, stumbling slightly over bodies as his vision blurs from all the blood rushing from his head.

As Harry steps into the kitchen, he finds Louis sitting with a cup of tea in front of him, his head in his hands.

“Lou?” Harry says, quietly.

“Hey,” he says, “This hangover is killing me.”

Harry laughs quietly, the sound ringing through the room and the both wince.

Louis waves his hands behind him as he says; “I just boiled the kettle, help yourself to tea.” And Harry does, trying to be a quiet as possible as he grabs a mug from the cupboard.

He finally sits opposite Louis a few minutes later, cradling the mug between his hands as he sips from it slowly.

He feels like he should say something, mention what was said between them last night but he can’t bring himself to. Ask if Louis actually meant what he said or if it was just a drunken ramble.

He tries to muster up the courage, prepare himself to spit out the words he wants to say, but then the rest of the boys are slowly waking. Liam and Zayn stumbling down the stairs together, suspiciously close as they enter the kitchen.

They just sit in silence as Niall joins them and he doesn’t get a chance to say anything at all.

 

+

 

The cool air is a blessing; instantly making him feel better and causing the hangover to recede slightly.

He’s walking along the pavement with Niall by his side when he stops in his tracks. He thinks of last night, lying on the floor in his drunken state, spilling his guts out to Louis. And he can’t leave – can’t leave without saying something.

Harry realises just exactly how much he meant what he said last night and he needs to take this chance. He needs to try and take the final step.

“Haz?” Niall says, looking over at him in confusion, “You alright?”

Harry shakes his head, “I just – I forgot something, give me a few minutes.”

Niall laughs, “Alright, mate.”

Harry turns around and rushes back – walks back up Louis’ driveway before knocking on the door.

Louis opens it to Harry breathing heavily; “Haz?”

“Did you mean it?”

“Wha- ”

“Last night, in the kitchen?” Harry asks, his eyelashes fluterring as he shivers in the cool winter air, “Did you mean it?”

“I – ” Louis begins, before taking a deep breath and letting his gaze fall on Harry; “Yeah, I did. Yeah.”

Harry’s smile grows before he’s surging forward. He grabs Louis’ face before pressing his lips to Louis’. He feels Louis freeze for a moment before he’s kissing back. His mouth opening underneath Harry and Harry just licks into his mouth. Their tongues twist as Louis threads his hands through Harry’s coat so that they rest on his hips.

There’s sparks flying everywhere and Harry feels his heart beating ridiculously fast but he smiles into the kiss – breaking it.

“Me too,” Harry gasps, his voice rough, “I really, really meant it.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, his voice quiet and soft.

Harry nods as Louis presses his forehead to Harry’s; “Yeah, I did.”

And they both smile at each other, unable to keep the happiness from their faces, even as Niall yells in glee at Harry; “Holy shit, your life actually is a fucking rom-com, Haz!” 


End file.
